Children of Terra

~Three-days Post Battle~ ~Newly-claimed Territory~ ~Forward Camp Grounds~ ~Vykan, Korybant~ It had been days since the battle, Vykan getting better at time-telling through contextual clues in-camp. He realized other things in the recovery of the battle-slaughter, idle time on his hands.       First, this was population control on part of Telkhine. The fact nothing of the better elements of Telkhine army arrived until after near slaughter of the Korybante. The coordination, location of battle. Vykan wondered as to why they were saved: Wouldn't it be better if they all died? Maybe it had something to do with morale, hero survivors . . .       Second, why none of the korybant revived after the battle. They were in a land of undead, shouldn't they rise in perpetuity? It had been explained to him as the concept of 'Khaos.' That is to say, first of gods, protogenoi. Titan-mother. In Telkhine lands proper, exists a skein-veil blessing weaved by the Melia, the Ephoroi, the Daktyloi; and the Hekaterides -- female Daktyloi. The skein naturally protects souls from the formless first-born. Khaos isn't malevolent, but unfettered exposure to her degrades sanity, meaning, and the sense of self. Most sublimate into her currents; but rarely some resist the tide, reforming anew. Telkhine call these daimons.       Unfortunately, no korybant reformed.       Third, souls differ from living-bearing in the ways of sustenance. They do not need the succors of life; food, wine, rest, sex. But the wants carry over all the same. Vykan looked at his sword hand, his weak arm. He should see wounds, even scars, seeing none. Lest a soul suffer direct injury of self-concept: nothing less than complete death -- even wounds mortal to living-bearing -- heal in a soul.       All said, Vykan gathered in essence key takeaways: injuries didn't take. Grievous ones, like lost limbs, might be months. What wouldn't the living take for starfish-like recovery, though! It also meant training was not limited by the biochemical harnesses of life: fat could be shed without worry of ketone metabolizing into acetone, lactic acid buildup and muscle damage healed orders faster, and sleep was unneeded for neural recovery. In short, growth would be shocking. Especially for the first few months. He smiled, fingering the end of his blade, drawing blood. ~A time later~ ~A decision reached~ Vykan swung at a training dummy, the other korybante restless from the weeks they were told to hold for reinforcements. Many took up renewed prayer, listening to the Ephor Mepholon cast blessing-skeins over garrison troop. Some stayed at the training grounds, discontent with their failure. The spell-shock was broken by new arrival. Archer-scouts had been sent to gather every one, soliciting summons of errant korybante for undoubtedly a development.       As the vestiges of camp shuffled in the center gathering-spot, the briefing rang, already begun by good Mepholon:       "-to know, a great host of Korybante decided for the Triton-front. These serpents have taken to slavery and chattel-slaughtering human souls. Further, they worship foul malign beings that parasitize upon fair Khaos, causing skein disruptions across all Telkhine! Opportunistic daimons dare to encroach on the outer city-states!       "This affront to our society shall not stand! I have received orders from the council agora that war mobilization has begun. All Telkhine has begun massing for a total push. Our orders are to wait for fresh Korybante and begin a carve through enemy front to their vaunted castle blight. We will join a siege with other Korybante legion to capture and garrison the base under Telkhine flag. Gods willing, we shall convert or crush these apostates to the last!"       The mood grew dour as the import of the sermon lead on. A skein disruption meant even the ephemeral troops were threatened. Any in Telkhine learned the purpose of skein-shield, the burden of the mage-weavers in perpetuating balance of the land. The shaking of the net by the Triton was no bar banter, and furrowed determination showed on nearly every face as the crowd dispersed back to their tents.       True to schedule, around 5-odd days later, a korybant army of further 500 arrived. The camp was scuttled hastily, the intention like burning ships afore a beachhead assault. No retreat. What really stuck in Vykan's mind was the timing: these korybant were surely less trained than his own. ~Weeks since the first battle~ ~Days of army-march~ ~Trail to the Triton-Castle~ It had been subtle, the shift past skein of Telkhine into lands firm with Triton control. The first notice was a fatigue in the chests of most of the troop. Ephemeral and korybant. Kourete were true Telkhine blood, daimonic, thus spared the weariness. Even the Ephor needed focus attention on projecting a skein bubble. Soil became crust, sapped of any vigor; the land beginning to sprout ugly things as the march deepened further. Trees became crags and skies became dark. The air became muggy, heavy, not like the shit-mud Vykan which was familiar; but oppressive that made breathing an act of will.       Forward scouts would later deliver a message to Mepholon: an enemy Triton camp was ahead, days past the boundary point. Estimates put the numbers around 150. Mepholon weighed his options: 513 korybant, and his garrison army. He knew the overarching goal, but it seemed wasteful to cast away troops in conditions as oppressive as these. Alas, there was another issue. The 'Korybante' were little more than dress-ups. There was a danger in gambit; but cast iron into a fire, and a sword would come out. The important part was the smith in control.       So, he decided a split army in 4 groups: one part 50, one part 75, one part 125, and one part 250. Four waves. The 13, for morale reasons, were left to choose, pending his approval. He walked from the rear guard up to a side rock, so all the troops could see him. These were his words: "Korybante, form groups, one of 50, 75, 125, and 250; even. The 13 blooded, choose your station from me. Go. Now."       He awaited both the main batch to form ranks, and for the 13 to approach. As it happened thus, he looked to the 13 gathered, and asked: "Stations?" This was litmus-test, to see will, loyalty, and other traits in these ones, the survivors. Curiously, as soon as he asked, one immediately stepped forward, unremarkable in all save a glint in the eye. That one would speak:       "Vykan, my Ephor. I seek the first, the 50." The other korybant saw this, and joined mostly as one, but a few lagging, inner doubts at play. None wanted to lose favor, not here, not now.       Mepholon held a steady observance. Internally, 'Curious and curios-er. No hesitation among most. The laggards, if they survive, I must note them.' Outwardly, he spoke: "Granted. Do so." He waited until the final rank was done before addressing the lot:       "Now then, we have enemy base of 150 estimate. Thus, I order a twin-line formation of the 50 and 75. The 125 split into two box formations around either side of camp, and wait for the initiating. Charge only after. You 250, split into thirds. Wait. Watch. Each third has leave to reinforce their chosen attack group as needed. Make it so." ~A short while~ Vykan, front of his 50, not as a leader of voice-command -- clearly ready to fly forward -- shuffled about the crag-trees as the twin-line positioned close to the camp as they could. The Tritons could be seen now, men of striking appearance to Kourete; save sea-green hair, scale patches on the arms, the legs. Vykan looked to the korybante-behind-tree. They awaited a signal; he realized they were the signal. Once sure they were in position, he looked to a fellow 13th survivor and nodded. A nod back. Vykan drew a deep breath in, his chest fuller since the months or so from Therodos, and broke past the crag-trees, sword high. Shouting was a waste.       The first Triton guard had been turned at that moment, and saw too late the charge. As the mer-thing fumbled for his mono-point spear, Vykan ran him through with blade, carrying the momentum into camp. Fellow korybant, led by his 13, washed along the camp perimeter, following suit. Shouts rang out: "Telkhine scum! Arms! . . . Protect the mage! Ranks! Ranks, you fools!"       A surprise move worked well on the camp, as Triton caught so unaware were cut a third down before a proper formation around the command tent made. Of these, most consisted of trident-warrior, some 20 were hoplite with full-shield, and of course the mage. Vykan knew that was issue and shouted: "Focus the mage-mer! That one!" He himself charged the line, finding the sweeping nature of korybante style good for attacking the spear-tridents directly, over the wielders. Once imbalanced, the back swings made gruesome work.       Fellow korybant saw his charge and adapted, being their first battles, and the momentum strong, the spear line collapsing to nearly hoplite phalanx. The mage cast magic bolts at Vykan, seeing his rally dangerous priority, but Vykan knew to use mer-dead as shield. One-at-a-time. He crashed upon the hoplites, but their formation too closed. He took stabs on his arms, one gashing his hip and felling him backward. Korybant would form a rank to fill for him, inspired by the mad dash.       One of the 13 looked down at him, in a defensive stance, and shouted: "Vykan! Can you stand?!"       Vykan tried. He did. The gash was serious, to and through the hip. His leg seemed limp. "No, dammit! I'll be fine, get the mage! The mage!"       The man hesitated before nodding, bashing against the hoplite line with the rest. Pushing the encirclement tighter, the mer-men against camp wall.       The actions of the 50 and 75 shocked the third wave of 125, and even more the 250. They had lost only 30! At worst! But the angered shout of the distant Ephor reminded them of duty, spanking them back into action. The 125 and 250 disregarded the wave-tactic and charged as one, washing over the camp defenders as a tide.       In the battle recovery and report, the Ephor noted details that supported what he saw. They ended up losing north of 50, being that the hoplite were trained well in the shield-sphere stand. Not of great import, all the dead were korybant; it was the surviving that were greater concern. That damned one named Vykan had what it took to galvanize the chattel. Mepholon would need to discuss things with his fellows at the castle-rendezvous. ~Series of minor battles later~ ~At the outskirt holds of Triton-Castle~ ~Beyond archer range~ The Ephoroi of all the armies had gathered to a rear command tent, huddled around a scroll-laden table. The battle reports of what happened for each branch on the way to rendezvous had cast stark a new light. Initially, Mepholon was pissed immensely at the mad Korybante, thinking himself vulnerable to criticism from his fellows. As report came in from each, however, a new trend: Mepholon had lost the least! There was discussion about this, surely, and generally agreed this was due to the prior veteranc-y of Mepholon's batch. In short, first advantage.       As for strategy, first was establishing resources and logistics. There were 5 major city-states of Telkhine: Therodos, Berytos, Arcoscephale, Mekone, and Pangaea. Each sent an initial korybant detachment of 500, with recruitment drives to bring more in time. Of the 2500 initial detachment, already they were down to 1750. Naturally, this would draw minutia of scorn for Mepholon; who lost less than 60, even after the many minor scuffles from the Therodos-to-Triton route.       Numbers in hand, next was the enemy: the Triton hold had an estimated 3000 defenders, nowhere enough Korybante to surpass alone. Time for more detachments to arrive was ruled out; that only gave the Tritons time to reinforce their own lines to that foul capital beyond, in the heart of Pelagia. It was begrudgingly decided to bring archer lines within range, hoplites as cover-wall.              Then the problem of getting Korybante to the castle, to perform their pariah duty. A crag-tree siege ram was decided, supported by archer fire. The beauty of this was the weakness of Triton: their range was limited to magic, as the pride of mer-men made lax their range technology.       Strategy finalized, the 5 Ephor relegated tasks and bustled for the castle siege proper. This test would be a benediction of the general war flow, so the Ephor knew to put aside disdain for the Korybante. Greater import was at play. ~Siege preparations underway~ ~Outskirts of Triton-Castle~ ~Beyond archer range~ ~Vykan, Korybant-blooded~ The mood was dour and furrowed in the siege camp, the 5 Korybante armies now mingled and exchanging happenings. Trainers from the 5 city-states, mostly Kourete, kept them tip-top with regimen to most avoid idle thought and hand. Vykan himself still wondered at the elation of his growth not physically possible in life. He had shed almost all the energy stores only living need, and his hip-wound had healed in the march and camp time since. Both these a source of morale boost, both made his frenzy worse-r. Much of the will-lacked korybant marveled at the unceasing drive Vykan held: it made them forget the ostracism, made them think of opportunity, made them dangerous.       Vykan would continue his regimen of training, joined by increasing numbers of korybant, that also began to see the strengths of undeath; ceaseless untiring focus. Progress no life could hope for. This had been thus for scant week, time-necessity of the siege ram expedited. On a day like any other, among the crag-trees and dark skies, a call to arms rang out; Vykan girding himself with his small shield and sword in answer, jogging to take his place among the korybant siege formation.       Today was the day.